Anne Rice’s Facebook:
My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic atheist lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me. But following Christ does not mean following His followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been, or might become.

I am encouraged by this introduction to what I hope will be a great series of writing.  Reminds me that it has been too long since I sat with a group to wrestle with and interpret scripture.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/paul-raushenbush/the-complex-power-and-wis_b_658639.html

I had a great and restorative day of being myself (by myself) today.  I checked a book out from the library called Faith & Doubt because I loved this poem on the back cover:

GOD SAYS YES TO ME

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I’m telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

–Kaylin Haught

Judith and I met for a weekend trip, We were sad that Rosemary wasn’t able to join us. Saturday night, Judith was looking at a newspaper and saw church listings. Originally, we had discussed our lack of interest in attending a church service during our time together. The ad blurb for the Unitarian church caught our attention. Even with a typo in the newspaper, we found their website.

There is freedom in exploring different churches while traveling. There is little chance of seeing these people again. Of course, reality was slightly different for us. Judith saw a former university professor. I saw a familiar face from my job at the university library.

I enjoyed our hour or so with the Unitarian Congregation. It was a small group, which can be uncomfortable for visitors. There is no crowd to hide in. I was a bit hesitant when I went to open the door, but I am so glad I went in. They were quick to greet us and include us wholeheartedly. The conversation seemed to eerily mesh with discussions Judith and I had the previous evening. There was no grand conclusion of the discussion, no perfect answer to our struggles. It was openness and discussion–most importantly community.

…or lack thereof.  Last night I was having dinner with my boys (my husband wasn’t there as he was on his way home from a business trip) when the subject of angels came up.  I don’t remember why we were talking about angels; I think I just said something about them being my little angels or something and then my 4-year old asked, “What’re angels?”  While I was trying to explain angels on a preschool level my 7-year old interrupted. “I don’t believe in angels. I don’t believe in God, either.”  I have to admit I was shocked to hear this.  Even though I often admit to myself that I am sort of an “agnostic Christian,” I have been attempting to raise little Christian boys.  We don’t go around talking about Jesus this, Jesus that, or God bless this and God said so-and-so all the time, but we do attend church and read some Bible stories at home as well.

I tamped down my shock so that I wouldn’t show it to him. Instead I just asked him why he didn’t believe in God. He said “I don’t believe in things that are invisible. Things can’t be invisible.”  His favorite subject in school is science and he is a very pragmatic little scientist already, I guess.

I asked him about germs, “You can’t see germs, right? But you believe germs exist?”  Him: “Well, yeah.”  (I knew he believed in germs because he is already something of a germaphobe.  Then I remembered wind.  “How about this: what makes the trees move?”  Him: “Wind.”  Me: “Well, can you see the wind?”  Him: “No.”  Me: “But you believe it’s there, right?”  Him: “Yeah.”  Me: “So to me that’s what God is like. I can’t see God but I can see what he has done in the world.”

I don’t know–it’s tough to know how much I should “indoctrinate” my children.  I want to teach them my worldview but as I’m not always sure what that is myself, how can I push it on them?  I ended by telling him, “Daddy and I believe in God and we want you to learn about what we believe, but we can’t make you believe the same.  You are always free to decide what you believe.”  This whole thing might be too deep for a 7-year old. I don’t know.

This morning my husband did an experiment with Isaac to show him how something invisible can be real.  He used a paintbrush and lemon juice to paint words on a paper. Then he used a match to heat it up to show the words.  He wrote, “Isaac, God loves you.”

I know the rest of my family would probably be pushing them to “accept Jesus as their lord and savior” and making sure they understand that they are sinners, etc.  I’m not comfortable with that but I want them to have faith.  So what to do?  It’s hard when I’m not sure what I believe and I’m not the most faith-filled person myself to teach my children about God.  So what do you think? How should we raise our children in faith?

Are we evil from birth?  Do we come into this world wretched sinful beings?  Although it can seem like a dark, depressing idea, it is a common theological belief in Christianity.  What is your opinion?

A few weeks ago, I wrote a somewhat emotionally reactive post about (hyper-) Calvinism and the seeming militant commitment to it by its adherents.  I didn’t mention it then, but the words were in response to a book I had just read, Young, Restless, Reformed: A Journalist’s Journey with the New Calvinists.  Though I finished the book with a bit more insight regarding this resurgent movement, I am continually dismayed by the certainty and hubris displayed in this particular way of viewing both God and Scripture.  (Not to mention my displeasure upon learning that the “journalist” was actually a committed Calvinist!)

I am pleased to report I had no instances of wanting to throw the book against the wall this week while reading Brian McLaren’s latest offering, A New Kind of Christianity. (Although I was challenged to repent of my us vs. them mentality and characterization of Calvinists—touché!)  Instead, I was inspired and reignited by McLaren’s discussion of ten questions he identifies as those perplexing many Christians today.  He asserts that the conversation we have about these issues can (and will) reshape the future of our faith and our ability to function within it with integrity.  I wholeheartedly agree.  I’m sure there will be plenty of book reviews to devour if you need to know all the details of the book before (or without) reading it.  I’ll spare you the outline, and hit a few personal highlights.

Two overarching premises that begin the book were extremely helpful to me:  1) a concise and accessible overview of Greek philosophy and a description of how its belief system has come to dominate our understanding of God and the Christian story, and 2) a plea for the image of “community library” to replace “constitution” as the dominant metaphor for our approach to reading scripture.  (I especially appreciate the articulation of this “constitutional reading” approach which I have never had adequate vocabulary for expressing.)  With these tools as a presupposition, I saw the other questions from new angles and with fresh perspective.  McLaren selectively intersperses Biblical passages and exegesis throughout, and his comments have the weight of sound study and a gentle pastoral voice.  I was particularly moved by his very simple but profound description of the purpose of the church (p. 164): “…to form Christlike people, people of Christlike love. It exists to save them from the great danger of wasting their lives, becoming something less than and other than they were intended to be, gaining the world but losing their souls.”  (In a nod to McLaren’s quest for common ground, I was struck at how similar this vision is to a call often issued from esteemed Calvinist pastor John Piper.)

I found great sensitivity and wisdom in McLaren’s exegesis of the story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch as a starting point for our discussions about sexuality and the sexual “other,” rather than the decontextualized verses often thrown around on this topic under a constitutional reading.  His astute insight regarding “my Father’s house” in John is also worth pondering.

There is much to like here.  More importantly, there is much to contemplate…and to act upon.  McLaren has no shortage of critics, his words continue to stir up.  I count myself among those already convinced of his vision, and I hope the reading of this book will result in more “converts” to the quest.

What are you doing for Lent? I thought about asking, “What are you giving up for Lent?” but really I think Lent is so much more than “giving up chocolate” or the like.  I know we are not all from church backgrounds that observe Lent.  For those unfamiliar with Lent, here’s how I explained it to some online friends earlier today.  Technically it is a season of the church calendar leading up to Easter which is supposed to be about fasting, prayer, and penitence in preparation for the joy of Easter. In my church we sing no alleluias during Lent. It’s a more solemn time of year at church but I love the ancient traditions. Can you tell I used to want to be a minister? Anyway, for me it is a spiritual exercise — a time to focus on higher things and fasting or giving up something is a way to focus on higher things and/or a way to do away with major distractions. But it is also a sort of experiment in living differently by sacrificing certain things and embracing new things.

I have only been observing Lent for a few years now. I think I started some 5 or 6 years ago, but I’m not sure. I’m pretty sure I started even before I attended an Anglican church while living in England.  I became interested in it while reading the book Girl Meets God (recommended by our own Judith).  The girl of the book gave up reading for Lent (I’ve still never tried that one).  I was so inspired that I in turn decided to try a Lenten fast.  I think my first attempt was giving up TV.  That one was hard because my husband did not give it up with me and I didn’t want to leave the room every time he turned it on, so I ended up just leaving it off if he weren’t home and not asking for certain shows if he were home and watching.  I have also done things like give up sugar and chocolate.  For the past few years I have given up non-essential shopping every Lent.  That means I can still shop for groceries (that’s obviously essential since I have a family to feed as well as myself) and if one of my kids suddenly desperately needs something like new socks, I can get that, but otherwise no shopping.   So no browsing Amazon for books, no waltzing downtown to my favorite little boutique, no traipsing through the mall peering at clothes at The Loft or smelly stuff at Bath and Body Works.

So that’s about the giving stuff up, but as I said, I think Lent should be more than that.  It’s also about adding in more time given to spiritual disciplines, more time to think of others, more time with family.  This year I plan to try something new — something described by the priest this morning at the Ash Wednesday service I attended. He talked about how a good Lenten practice would be to look in the mirror every morning and think about the things you like about the person looking back at you, and also how to make the person in the mirror better.  He said it more eloquently, but I like the idea.  I plan to try that — a little lesson in being merciful to myself.  I have also ordered some Anglican rosary beads so when those get here I’m going to start praying the rosary — an Anglican/Episcopal version I found online.

For those who do observe, what will your Lenten practice be this year?

I am not a Calvinist.  I don’t like systematic theology.  I don’t enjoy endless debate about the character and sovereign nature of God.  These things are neither fruitful nor soul-nourishing to me.  However, I also don’t like being insulted as “theologically light” simply for not agreeing with a particular interpretation of Scripture.  As if had I only studied more diligently and prayed more fervently, then I would understand.  Or, perhaps, it is not God’s will for me. (Yes, that is sarcasm.)

If I have something to say, if I really do want to put myself out there—teaching, speaking, writing, etc. then I need to be prepared for the kind of conversations (and accusations) that will surely await me.  I am not argumentative by nature, and I have many friends I care deeply about who place themselves squarely in the Reformed theology camp.  They idolize (er, admire) men who make me want to spit, curse and throw things.  Truthfully, I care mostly about this issue because it means so much to them.

But I can not reconcile their beliefs (i.e., their interpretation of Scripture) with my own interpretation, observation, tradition, and experience.  I simply can’t.  And maybe that’s just where I should respectfully leave it.

I’d love to hear some feedback on this one.

Patience with God: Faith for People Who Don’t Like Religion (or Atheism) by Frank Schaeffer

I ordered this book from amazon today.  I am eager to receive it.  I joined a book club.  I thought it would take me beyond my typical reading, which has proven true.  I have already read our February book, so I am ready to read some of my own choosing.

Here I come religion and biographies–True Compass by Ted Kennedy is waiting to be finished as well.